


Sharing is Caring

by knotted_rose



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010) RPF
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, PWP, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-12
Updated: 2011-03-12
Packaged: 2017-10-16 21:43:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/169652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knotted_rose/pseuds/knotted_rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott is on the mainland doing interviews as punishment. He calls Alex to share the pain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sharing is Caring

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know the name of Scott's girlfriend. I called her Lisa. Just cause.

To punish him for his honesty in the EW interview where Scott bitched about no time off, and okay, maybe it wasn't very politic but it was fucking true now he has to do all these goddamn interviews on the mainland when all he wants to do is stay home with Lisa and fuck and get shit-faced. But no, he's got to be the goddamn pony in the dog and pony freak show.

What's worse, it's just him alone. Alex that fucker got to go back home to Australia. Sure, he had some interviews to do there too but he's got like two scheduled to Scott's twelve. Plus, Scott had gotten used to doing interviews with him. Alex isn't smooth--no matter what that asshole may think--but he is friendly and a hell of a lot better at pretending to like these plastic motherfucking talking heads than Scott.

So of course, after the first fucking show with Jimmy Fallon sitting like some prissy high priestess on her perch asking about Scott's dad (as usual) and giving him crap about rapping (he wasn't that bad, and he isn't ashamed because damn it he was fucking 15) as well as the pictures, Scott calls Alex. To share the pain.

"I'm not bailing you out again," comes Alex's sleep rough voice. "Blow the guard this time."

"Blow me," Scott says, and suddenly the LA air becomes as warm as a Hawaii afternoon. He's glad he's already laying down in his bed, relaxing. He doesn't know how Alex does that with only a few words--winds down Scott's building anger and sets his muscles to taffy.

When he doesn't make Scott incandescently insane.

"Aw, what's the matter, Scotty, Lisa not treating you right?"

"At least I'm getting laid. Unlike certain faux action heroes named Alex."

"Jealous of all the tail I'm getting? Unlike certain has-been wanna-be's with a serious girlfriend, I can fuck anything I want."

Scott snorts. "And yet another reason why I'm never getting near that petri dish of a dick of yours."

"Aw Scott, you know I'd have you begging for it."

"Not a whore like Daniel," Scott says, wiggling his back, relaxing further.

Alex snorts. "And he'd kick your ass, torn ACL or not, if he knew you'd seen us."

"Well, I'm not talking and your mouth's too full of his dick to be talking so I think we're good."

"And I ask again, jealous much Scott?"

"Puh-leaze," Scott says, taking a deep breath, his eyes fluttering shut.

"So you talked off the ledge yet? Can I get back to fucking sleep?"

"What, did I disturb your beauty rest princess?"

"You know there's a couple of continents' time difference between us, right, dick? It's 4 AM in the fucking morning here."

Scott winces, sorry but not. "Yeah, yeah. I think I'm just going to take a nap. Before I go out to dinner with my girlfriend."

"You ever decide you want to go exploring the Great Barrier Reef, you let me know."

"Do you even hear the words coming out of your mouth?" Scott asks, huffing a laugh.

"Later, brah."

"Good night Gracie." Because Scott has to get the last word in.

#

The problem with Alex is that he's tenacious. That's what he calls it. Clingy is how Scott names it. Like one of those fucking 8-legged headhuggers out in the ocean. He's in Scott’s personal space all the goddamn time. An arm around his shoulder. Or a quick pat on the knee. Sometimes both hands, fingers digging into the knots in Scott's shoulders.

And it isn't like Scott minds, not too much, guy isn't hard on the eyes, not that he'd ever tell Alex that. Instead, he bitches about how handsy Alex is. That's in his goddamn contract.

But Scott's still on the mainland and Alex is still in Australia and there's another fucking interview. Regis and Kelly. Scott's sure it's a goddamn feat of engineering that all the pancake doesn't go sliding off Regis' face. Then again, maybe the wrinkles and crevices are holding it up.

Scott declines the coke-snorting beforehand, and manages to escape before Kelly leaves bruises on his ass from all the groping and pinching.

Alex would have just laughed and had her blow him in the green room. Scott can't do that. He just isn't that easy. He's an artist, damn it.

He can already hear Alex laughing at that one.

It's just--there's this thing between him and Alex. Something that Scott needs. Something real, to slough off the ass-licking and titty-shaking.

Scott knows better than to call Alex before the driver drops him off at his hotel. His dad had drilled that into him again and again -- private business stays private. You never know who's listening in.

Scott doesn't always do the right thing.

"Not a good time," Alex growls into the phone.

"What the fuck are you on?" Scott asks. He's not going to get pissy just because Alex doesn't want to talk.

"Nothing," Alex says. Then he groans. "Yeah, like that."

Scott's mind goes blank. Alex is having sex.

"What is wrong with you? Why would you pick up the phone while you're getting blown?" Scott sputters after a few moments of silence on his end and, well, noises on the other.

He can't hang up. He wants to. He can't. Alex's little moans and pants fascinate him. It's somehow worse than the time he walked in on Alex blowing Daniel. That time he'd been able to back out, walk away, and go get very, very drunk while complaining there wasn't enough brain-bleach in the world.

Alex gives a little laugh. "Sharing is caring, brah. I'll make it up to you."

"The fuck you will," Scott says.

The call ends. Scott can't call back. His hands shake, though, as he puts his phone away. He taps on the divider. "Change of plans. Hit the liquor store first."

Tequila. And lots of it was obviously now in Scott's future.

#

Scott ignores the first couple times Alex calls. He and Mr. Tequila are doing just fine without any goddamn Aussie guilt-trip.

Finally, though, Scott gets tired of the constant ringing and buzzing and picks up.

"What the fuck's the matter with you? Why the hell are you freaking out on me if I'm having sex?" Alex thunders across the phone line.

"Well hello to you too, little Miss Sunshine," Scott slurs.

"You drunk?"

"Not enough brain bleach in the world," Scott says automatically. "And what the fuck's the matter with me? You're the one who's damaged. Why would you pick up the phone at a time like that? And don't give me any sharing shit."

"You're my mate," Alex says, starting out patiently, slowly, as if explaining to a three-year-old. "Of course I'd take your call."

"What the hell does that mean? I'm your mate? Like in some fucking caveman ritual?" Scott knows his comebacks suffer when he drinks.

"What the hell do you want me to say? That I'll always get your call, always, because I never know if I am going to have to bail out your ass or talk you off the goddamn ledge of a building or go call emergency rescue?"

Scott sits back in his chair. "You miss me."

"Yeah, right, whatever."

A smile tugs on Scott’s lips. He can't deny it. Or the way his chest unknots. "You just wanted me to be there to pay the hooker when she finished with you."

"That too."

Scott hasn't replaced all his blood with alcohol. He isn't completely pickled. But he's glad to know that they haven't fucked up whatever the hell it is they have. Chemistry or brotherhood or fucking mates or whatever.

"So let me make it up to you," Alex purrs.

"We are not having phone sex," Scott announces as he stands up and weaves over to the bed. Just so he won't accidentally fall down. Not in preparation or anything.

"Why not? I'll make it good for you."

Scott snorts. "Smooth, _mate,_ you are not."

"You know you want it."

"You just keep telling yourself that. Whatever helps you sleep at nights."

"Scotty," Alex whines. "Just--let me." He clears his throat. "Just stop fighting for one goddamn minute."

"But that's all I know how to do." Scott presses his lips together. He also tells even more truth when he's drunk.

Alex laughs softly. "Yeah, I know. Now stop the earbashing and just fucking lay back and do as you're told."

"Not that kind of girl," Scott protests. But he's laying down and Alex is talking to him and at some point he's going to see Alex again.

"Now take your cock out. You already cracked a fattie?"

"Are you even speaking English anymore?" Scott asks, unzipping his jeans and sliding them down his hips, along with his boxers. He sighs as he strokes himself, then bites his lip.

"Don't be hiding from me," Alex warns. "I let you hear me. Let me hear you."

"Is that why you answered, you asshole? As a setup to this?" Scott says. He's not angry, not really. It's just this is how fucked his life has become. He's stroking off to his best friend's voice halfway around the world.

"What, you calling me some kind of mastermind? I could resemble that remark."

"Fuck you," Scott laughs.

"Maybe later," Alex says.

Scott swallows, the heat in Alex's voice drying out his own throat.

"You've got a thick dick, Scott. I've seen it," Alex says quietly. "Thick and perfect--fits your hand good, don't it."

"Jealous?" Scott breathes out, not quite panting, not yet.

"Hungry," Alex growls.

That makes Scott shudder, a full fucking body-shudder. He remembers Alex on his knees, eyes closed as he swallowed Daniel's dick, looking blissful and greedy at the same time. "Gonna make you work for it," Scott says, his voice suddenly rougher.

"Brah--when would you not?" Alex laughs.

Scott knows he's well and truly in hell when Alex's laughter gets him harder still.

"So how does that cock feel?" Alex asks. "Heavy and hot in your palm? Do you twist your wrist at the end? Put pressure on that fat head? I bet it's fucking gorgeous right now. Red and swollen. Your balls drawing up tight. Big vein thumping, ready to pop."

Scott groans. "You do voice-over for porn? Translation to Australian?" he manages to get in as the pressure builds. His stomach tightens and it's even harder to swallow now.

"I'll show you real porn when you get back. Not the fake-titty kind. But with me bent over the sink, no cheesy music, just that slap of skin-on-skin." Alex slaps his hand on--something, maybe his thigh, maybe his belly--and somehow he's got the exact same rhythm Scott's using to jerk off.

"Oh god," Scott chokes out. "You're--you're trying to kill me here." He speeds up but Alex stays with him, matching him beat for beat.

"Naw, trying to save you. Come on, mate. Come for me."

Scott wants to deny it. Wants to push just a little longer. That's just part of his fucking DNA. But he can't. Can't ignore the voice in his ear. He strokes once, twice, and then shoots out the other end with a strangled cry, his body arching off the bed as it released, his cock pumping semen all over his belly.

Scott lays there for a few minutes, taking deep gulping breaths, trying to stop his heart from pounding out of his chest.

"You still with me princess? Or you pass out?"

"Still here," Scott says when he's finally stopped panting.

"You good?"

"Eh--the room’s spinning a little--but that's not from the sex. That's from my good friend Mr. Tequila."

"Well maybe me, you, and Mr. Tequila can go on a date when you get back."

Scott laughs and pushes himself up on his elbows, looking at his come-streaked belly. "I'm a mess."

"Truer words never spoken," Alex informs him solemnly.

"Fuck you," Scott says, falling back on the bed.

"Gonna make you work for that," Alex says smugly. "Now, can you get through the rest of the night without me holding your hand?"

"Go to hell," Scott says, smiling.

"After you. Now say good night, Gracie."

"Good night, Gracie."

Scott still has a smile on his face. They're both completely fucked. He has Lisa, not giving her up. Alex has Daniel, and probably half the fucking island. He isn't about to give up slutting around.

But they also have each other, have each other's backs. Or dicks. Or something.

And maybe next time, Scott will be there to catch Alex when he falls, instead of always the other way around.

{end}


End file.
